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Breaking waves had shrunk to ankle-high, and it stayed like this. I couldnīt believe it. This time I was sure that I hadnīt seen some ghosts created by wishful thinking. The lines I had seen from up the hill had been real for sure, had they?
Or had they been the ghosting images of past swells on the memory card of my camera? Very unlikely, as I had the same visions on different cameras. I decided to drive to Klitmøller in the hope that the slightly more exposed coastline there would better catch the swell, that surely must be running somewhere out there. The sky was still misty when I drove through the vast dune landscape, but it looked like there might be a little bit sunshine soon. And indeed, once I parked the van, the sun appeared at the horizon and lit up the fishermen village.
The wind was a light southeast – windfinder was correct with that forecast – and the bay was calm. Very calm. Way too calm. Over at the reef a wave was breaking, but it was a wobbly and weak windswell wave and nothing even close to the predicted groundswell.
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